


Florem Gardens

by Misedejem



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, bravely second spoilers up to chapter 6, this was written for ship week on tumblr under the free prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misedejem/pseuds/Misedejem
Summary: Six years after leaving the Glanz Empire to start their lives together, Aimee and Angelo return to the place they once called home - the place that had always shaped the course of their lives. Little did they know was that leaving it behind could not stop it from doing so.





	Florem Gardens

 “Everythin’ alright, darlin’?”

Angelo had been staring off into the distance, his beautiful face marred with a discomforted expression. Apparently, he had been deep in some unsettling thought, because the moment Aimee began talking, he looked startled and almost dropped his spoon.

“Hm? Oh, uh… I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I just have a headache, is all…”

“Really? But y’ didn’t drink that much last night, did’ya?”

Angelo was something of a lightweight compared to Aimee, but she didn’t recall him acting even a little bit tipsy during the evening, and she knew there was no way alcohol could be messing with her memories. She had spent the whole night avoiding the stuff for once. 

“Oh, no, it’s not because of that… I’m just tired. Yesterday was a bit much, is all.”

Aimee pouted and rubbed his arm in an attempt at comforting him, completely overlooking the fact that her hands were coated in flour until it was too late. She swore loudly the second she noticed, and began frantically brushing away the white powder that stood out starkly against the red fabric of Angelo’s jumper. Despite her best efforts, part of it still clung to the fibre.

“You’re too honest,” Angelo said, tugging the dirtied material into his line of sight. “It didn’t even cross my mind that you had that on your hands. Now I _have_ to get payback.”

He proceeded to dig his own hands into the bag of flour on the counter and then pull Aimee into a tight hug before she could react, making sure to pin her arms to her side so she could not exact a further layer of revenge. She muttered vulgarities into his chest between bouts of laughter.

“At least it made ya smile,” she mused, lifting her head up. “I’d say that’s worth the sacrifice of this shirt.”

“It’s my shirt anyway,” Angelo said in a mock sour voice, letting her go and pulling gently at the loose, black fabric of the t-shirt that hung from her shoulders.

“Mine now. You never wear it.”

“Because you stole it! Anyway, I apologise if I worried you, sugarcake. I really am just exhausted… The Flower Festival takes a lot out of me. I really can’t stand being in the city that long.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna make the mistake of hugging the guy stupid enough to wear red while baking with me again, but just know that I get why you feel that way, an’ if you ever think talkin’ it out’ll make you feel better, I got all the time in the world.”

“Thank you, Aimee. I think I’ll be okay though.” He bent down to kiss her cheek and then flashed a smile at her. “Anyway, I’m done with the apple-based filling. What other flavours do you think we should make?”

“Hmm… Cherry?”

“Mmm, good choice. I think I have some left over.”

As Angelo went in search of the cherries, Aimee began digging at a groove in the wooden counter nonchalantly with her finger. She recalled a day, about six years ago, when Angelo had returned from Gathelatio after signing a lease on their new property with the grim news that Denys Geneolgia had died. She had made the groove in the counter with a meat cleaver in a fit of frustration directed entirely at Janne Angard – who was allegedly going by Janne Balestra now – after hearing that he had not invited them to the man’s funeral out of spite. She’d seen him perusing the market in Gathelatio one day two years ago and had punched him in the jaw then and there. They’d spent the night in a cell in the Sanctum for it, but she felt it was worth the punishment.

The two of them had moved to Gathelatio a few weeks later, only returning to their home country to visit Angelo’s mother, or for events he’d been hired for. As a result, that had been the last time in years that she had cooked in the tiny kitchen they had in their little pancake house in Florem Gardens. She had never been all that great at cooking, even with the best baker in the world as her teacher, so usually both she and Angelo thought it best if they left all food preparation that involved an oven to him. But occasionally, if it was just the two of them eating, or if Angelo was feeling unwell or tired, she would step in to lend him a hand. She would never be as good as he was, but he had some twenty years of experience, a professional teacher, and an asterisk that specifically enhanced his talents in the kitchen. She vaguely knew how to work with shortcrust pastry now, and that was enough. After all, ten years ago, when they had first met, she didn’t even know such a thing existed.

When the two of them were fourteen years old, a division of the old Eternian army known as the Bloodrose Legion had been ordered to ransack Florem Gardens to procure, en-masse, the tiny spirits that lived there known as a Flories. When the locals who lived alongside the Flories fought back, the army set the forest ablaze and let them die. Florem had no army of its own, instead protected by the largest guild of mercenaries and hitmen on Luxendarc, capable of bringing down the mightiest of foes. When they came to the rescue of the Gardens, they, too were slaughtered.

Aimee’s entire family perished in the attack, and she very nearly joined them, had she not been rescued and brought straight back to a medic in Florem by one of the mercenaries who had managed to survive. She had been told that she’d almost drowned, having fallen into the river that ran through the forest, but she hadn’t been able to recall that experience then, nor could she now. All she had retained from the day were an ugly scar on her leg, and two distinct memories. She knew she had been spared by a woman who would later be identified as Einheria Venus, a commander of the Bloodrose Legion and now a good friend of hers, and she knew that she had eaten the most incredible thing she had ever tasted. She’d been fished from the river by a boy about her age, and he’d quickly tried to bring her back to her senses with some pancakes - the quickest thing he knew how to make - at least according to him. All she remembered was the indescribable taste and the fluffiness of the elixir that had helped to save her life. That, and the beautiful face of the boy who had made them.

A face that, in the present day, was twisted into a pained grimace.

 “If it’s that bad, go lie down.”

Angelo cast a glance at Aimee, holding the box of cherries in one hand and kneading his forehead with the other.

“No… It’s fine.”

“It clearly ain’t fine,” she snapped, a little more forcefully than she had meant to. “…Sorry. I’m just a little concerned. You look dreadful, darlin’.”

His face dropped, but then after a moment it softened, and he smiled.

“…I’ll lie down for ten minutes.”

“Want me to join you?”

“Mmhm… That’d be nice.”

The downstairs of the pancake house was all one room, most of it understandably dedicated to kitchen, so they could only squeeze one sofa into the space they had, and not a hugely sizeable one at that. It was big enough for Aimee to comfortably lie down, but Angelo was much, much taller, and had to curl up tightly to make himself fit. He had placed his head on her lap and brought his knees up to his chest. She began to run her fingers through his hair.

“If I fall asleep, I give you permission to poke me,” he murmured after a few minutes of silence.

“Nah. I’m lettin’ ya sleep.”

“But the pastries…”

“They can wait. It’s prob’ly better if ya don’t stuff yerself with dessert right now, anyway. Not if yer feelin’ sick.”

“I’m not sick… I have a headache because I haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“Angelo!”

“I know…”

“Couldn’t sleep? Or didn’t want to?”

“Couldn’t…” He paused for a moment, then murmured: “too much on my mind…”

Aimee bit her lip. “It wasn’t _those dreams_ again, was it?” She didn’t elaborate, but no doubt Angelo knew what she meant. Both of them knew, all too well, of the dreadful nightmares that had started haunting them during their days in the Glanz Empire, and that had lingered even after they left.

“No, I…” He lifted his head slightly to look at her. “You know, I don’t think I remember the last time I had them.”

She sighed in relief. “Me either. Reckon I must’a been desensitised to them a while ago, if they’re even happenin’ at all. Thought of them comin’ back is pretty fuckin’ scary though…”

“Mmm…” Angelo lay his head back down. “But no… I was just thinking too much.”

“What kinda stuff were ya thinkin’ about for it to keep _you_ up of all people? I think the cat sleeps less than you.”

She began regretting her attempt at a joke when Angelo did not reply, or even react at all.

“It’s nothing.” He murmured eventually, and then promptly sat up. “I doubt any of it would be coherent if I tried to explain it… but anyway. I’ve had ten minutes. I want to finish the pastries. Helping?”

Aimee knew it would be pointless to press him any further. He was impossibly stubborn when it came to personal matters, and he absolutely would not share his feelings if he didn’t want to. Instead, she just nodded and returned to the kitchen area with him, hoping that this wouldn’t be one of those things he’d keep inside him forever.

When Angelo had asked her earlier that day if she wanted to make some pastry for him, Aimee had been left feeling a mixture of both flattered and confused. Flattered that he actually thought her pastry tasted good enough for his finely tuned palate, and confused that he, a man whose enormous sense of self pride when it came to his talents prevented him from even entering another bakery, would willingly pass up the reigns to someone else when he had the opportunity to shine.

But then again, it was just the two of them. That kind of stuff no longer seemed to cross his mind when they were alone, especially not when he wasn’t feeling himself. She recalled the time the previous winter, when he’d caught a bad cold and had spent the whole day curled up on their sofa in Gathelatio, letting Aimee look after him (as best as she could), instead of covering his face and hiding in his room as he often had when they had been teenagers and he had come down with a bug. He’d always let his narcissism get the better of him in the past, but now it seemed like Aimee was its exception.

“So, I’m right in sayin’ that I’m only makin’ the pastry because yer too tired to do it yerself?”

“…In essence, yes.”

“Isn’t that the reason ya still use yer asterisk though? I thought it sped up all the stuff that takes effort in cookin’ so it’s not as tedious?”

“Cooking is never _tedious,_ it’s just a bit strenuous is all. And yes, that is why I still use my asterisk.” Angelo patted his chest where the little hunk of orange crystal hung from a necklace beneath his shirt. “But… Well, you know how it works. You can still overwork yourself even with these things enhancing your abilities.”

“And pastry is now overworkin’ yourself?”

“It is when you’ve already thoroughly burned yourself out dealing with hundreds of screaming fans. Plus, I spent all day before the festival baking for them.” He shrugged, though maintained a keen watch on the cherries he had begun preparing. “It’s easy to get tired when you have so many people you have to please.”

“Yer not exactly a social person either, so no wonder.” She paused briefly to check Angelo’s handwritten recipe book to make sure she knew what she was doing. “Honestly, if ya weren’t so incredible at bakin’, I’d say ya had the wrong career.”

“One of the misfortunes of being both attractive and talented, no doubt. Aah, sugarcake, how do we cope sometimes?”

“I don’t kn- wait, _we?_ ” She felt her face heat up. “Well, ain’t you a smooth motherfucker?”

Angelo began to laugh, only making her blush more furiously. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.” He flourished his arms dramatically. “Why, I think you’re radiating such a pure positive energy that all my maladies have been cured!”

“Aaagh, stop it! Yer gonna make me drop dead on the dough. Then you don’t get pastries.”

The two of them continued to make jokes as they prepared their portions of the snacks. By the time they had spooned as much of the filling as they could into the little pouches, Aimee’s jaw hurt from smiling so much.

Angelo scooped up all the remaining scraps of pastry in his hands once Aimee thought they were done, and she presumed he meant to throw them away until he placed them back down on the counter and began to roll them flat again.

“We’re not done?”

“You’ll see.”

He took up a knife once it was rolled flat, and then began carving tiny, perfect shapes out with such fluid motions that the knife seemed a part of his body. He then began moulding the shapes into a tiny pastry flower, as dainty as the hands that made it. Aimee just watched in awe as Angelo placed it on the baking tray next to the little pies.

“It’s for you,” he said, smiling warmly at her face, which she was sure would be permanently set agape after seeing what she had seen. She knew the incredible, delicate things he could make, but she’d never seen him do it. “It’s a little sloppy, I’m afraid. I’m not as precise when I’m tired.”

“Sloppy? You need to get yer eyes tested, mister. It’s amazin’. Everythin’ ya do is amazin’.” She sighed wistfully. “I can’t get my head around the crazy stuff you can do with food. Shit, I barely know how to cook.”

Angelo folded his arms. “Well, cooking is my specialty. You thoroughly take the cake when it comes to, say, engineering or hunting.”

“Well, I guess…”

“And your aim is second to none. I can’t even throw a dart straight. _You_ could shoot a target from miles away.”

Aimee felt her face heating up, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks to try and hide the redness. She turned her head away as well, instead pretending to be deeply engrossed in the recipe pictured in Angelo’s open book.

“You have many talents, Aimee. There are so many things you can do better than I can. It’s simply a matter of different experiences.”

“…Yeah, yer right there. They ain’t exactly skills you’d need, but y’are shit at ‘em, I’ll give ya that.”

“There are other things you’re superior at as well. Likewise, there are things I excel at above all others.”

“I’m better at namin’ things…” Aimee muttered, noticing the abysmal title at the top of the page she’d been distracting herself with. Angelo always came across as so elegant and serious that his taste in names – for recipes, for his weapons, and even the pet names he gave her – were shocking to see. Nobody would associate such a weird sense of humour with a guy like him.  

“Huh? I… Says the woman who came up with ‘Guncleaver’…!”

“Yer puns are actually the worst thing you have ever done. And you _have_ killed people.”

“They’re witty!”

“They’re cheesy as hell.”

“Hmph…” Angelo cracked a grin. “If the intention was to make something cheesy, then I think I did quite well.”

Aimee sighed loudly, struggling to supress a grin as well. “Still, I’ll tell ya now, yer not naming our kids.”

“I… Uh, well, nor are you,” he replied quickly. Perhaps it was just that he was tired, but Aimee could swear she heard his voice break slightly.

“Hey, go get some sleep. I’ll sort these out,” she nudged the tray of pastries.

“If you don’t mind, I think that would be best.” He nodded, then bent down and kissed her. She still had to stand on tiptoes slightly to reach his face. “Goodnight sugarcake… Uh, afternoon, even.” He cast a glance at the clock and laughed at himself. “I love you.”

He looked like he was stumbling as he turned to leave the room, and Aimee regretted leading him on such a tangent in their conversation when clearly all he needed was rest. She supposed it would be best if she left the house for a bit, as to not make any accidental loud noises and wake him.

“I love you too… ya big softie.”

\---

“Not a lot of monsters about this afternoon,” Aimee mused, stepping around a puddle that had stagnated in the rock formations that marked the very edge of Florem Gardens. “Just cats… Minette’d have a field day here, that’s for sure…” She made a mental note to tell Minette about it once she returned home. She was actually at the bakery in Gathelatio for the duration of the Flower Festival, looking after Cinnamon Roll – their cat (named by Angelo) – so contacting the girl would not prove too difficult.  

Aimee reached a patch of grass that was neither damp nor occupied by feline, and placed a tarp down, alongside a selection of tools, weapon parts, and a blueprint. The Crystalguard wanted to upgrade their firearms, so she had brought along one of the prototypes she had been working on in the hopes that she would be able to finish it before she returned home.

She still wasn’t quite sure how she had ended up being a weapon engineer for Gathelatio’s army in her free time. She’d been doing odd tinkering jobs about Florem since she’d arrived in the city as a young teen, and still did the same thing in Gathelatio ten years later, in their local mechanics, but that was a career she’d actively perused. All she could really explain about her side-job was that one day, she’d mentioned designing Vucub Caquix, the Empire’s transforming mech, around Yew Geneolgia, and the next day a soldier had shown up on her doorstep with a job offer.

She stared out into the distance, past the spiral of rocks that twisted the horizon, and towards the forest that lay beyond them, at the foot of the cliff. Had it not burned all that time ago, she would likely have taken up a career in the village, doing gods know what. She’d certainly have never been an engineer though. Nor a mercenary, for that matter. She wondered what her parents or siblings would think of what she was doing now. They’d probably be happy for her – she was, after all, doing what she loved.

_“This place feels different now,” the ethereal voice of Mephilia Venus mused. She stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the forest, the Flories that were flourishing there once more dancing at her feet._

_“Different?” Einheria, her older sister, asked, folding her arms across her armoured chest. The youngest Venus sister, Artemia, cocked her head._

_“Yes. It’s quieter now. More peaceful.” She gazed up at the sky, watching the pink blossom drift by on the gentle breeze. “During the war, I remember hearing... voices. Angry voices, coming from the forests we destroyed. So much of that time is lost to me now, but that, I remember clearly.”_

_“The Bloodrose Legion killed everyone in those forests,” Einheria said, her voice taking on a sour tone._

_“Yes… Maybe so… But sometimes a soul can remain on Luxendarc even after their body had died. I believe the people of the forests lived on in spirit… But now they lay silent.”_

_“Maybe because we kill DeRosa? Maybe because they know what he did?” Artemia suggested. Mephilia made an affirming noise._

_“Perhaps… Maybe his death means that his victims can… move on. They can rest in peace. What do you think, Aimee? Has your village finally forgiven us our crimes?”_

_Aimee hadn’t realised until Mephilia had turned to address her that her eyes were welling up with tears._

_“That’s a nice thought… I’d like to think they’d forgive ya… I mean, it’s not like the Bloodrose Legion had any choice…”_

_All three of the sisters bowed their heads._

_“I mean, the people of Florem have been worshippin’ the Flories and the Orochi for centuries. We know how they work, so everyone in that village… If they knew that scumbag was poisonin’ y’all with their essences, of course they’d forgive ya. They’d know what that stuff would do to yer heads.” She pounded her fist into her hand and forced a smile through her tears. “And now they can finally be happy…”_

_Einheria placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Thank you for helping us find him. This country still has a long way to go, but I’d like to hope that it’s people, both living and dead, can find solitude in the fact that the people who have ruined it will never wreak havoc again. It’s the least we can do to make up for our role in the suffering Florem was caused.”_

_“Nah… I should be the one thankin’ you.” Aimee shook her head. “I always planned to kill him. Ya didn’t have to help me – just knowin’ he was brainwashing yer soldiers along with everyone else was enough to know you weren’t the awful people I thought you were.”_

_“But I just went along with it. I’m afraid I’m the only one underserving of your thanks.”_

_“Nah, you were just followin’ orders. DeRosa killed hundreds of innocent people because they got in his way. I reckon he’d have killed you if you objected. And given that my darlin’ and I left the Empire because we didn’t want to die, I can’t blame anybody for doin’ a shitty thing just to save their own life. Besides, the three of ya have done so much for this country over the past year anyway, and that’s more than we could ever ask. So seriously, thanks! I’m sure all of Florem feels the same way.”_

When the Venus sisters had departed, Aimee remembered falling to her knees and sobbing into the earth. She cried for her family, for her friends, for all the faces she had seen every day for fourteen years that had all turned to ash that day. It was the first time, in fact, that she’d really had the chance to. At some point, someone had tucked a blanket around her and had wrapped their arms across her body. It could be nobody but Angelo – the Gardens were by that point deserted aside from the two of them – but it took a long time for the numbness to fade and for her to recognise his presence. She didn’t know how long he had sat there with her, holding her tight, only that it was dark by the time either of them spoke.

_“You must be exhausted…” Angelo said softly. “You’ve been working so hard for this, for so long…”_

_“Yeah…” Aimee murmured, her voice hoarse._

_“You can rest now, though. You don’t have to push yourself anymore.”_

_“I don’t think I wanna… Hey, Angelo… Is it selfish if we just ditch it all now? Just fuck off back home and forget the Empire, and the war, and the plague, and everythin’ that we somehow got ourselves caught right in the middle of?”_

_“Hmm… If people want to call us that, I say let them. The only stakes we had in this situation were the fact that the duchy destroyed our country, and that’s been resolved now. We’re too young to really know the impact of the plague, and as far as the Empire goes…” he smirked. “We’re just mercenaries, after all. We never had any reasons to fight for them beyond money.”_

_“But, we weren’t paid in cash. We said we’d help the Kaiser if he could ensure DeRosa would pay.”_

_“I don’t think the specifics matter… We got what we wanted, and we’re not really responsible for anything else that happened now that DeRosa is gone. I think you’ve done everything you needed to do to help right the wrongs in the world, sugarcake. A terrible man murdered the people you care about, and you avenged them.”_

_“Hmm, good… Because I’m tired, and I ain’t good at this heroic stuff… If it’s alright then I just wanna go back to the way things were before. Livin’ in simple peace with my family. That’s you, by the way.”_

_It was dark, but she could still tell that he had gone red. For the first time in a while, she felt like laughing._

_“Well, I mean… peace, with my fans, might not be so easy but everything else… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”_

“Can’t believe that happened six years ago…” she muttered to herself as she set to work on her prototype. It was based off the concept she used for Guncleaver, only not taking on the image of one of Florem’s guardian deities as her own weapon did. She hadn’t fired the thing in years, but it was still her most prized possession, and she wasn’t about to replicate it for anyone. “Right in this spot, actually. Were you there then?” she turned to look at the large, tabby cat that had prowled over to sniff at what she was doing. It didn’t seem to react to her words, but rather got distracted by a blossom that had fallen nearby and tore after that instead.

At this point, this part of Florem was practically theirs, every time they returned. The Flower Festival brought them back every year, sometimes right up until the new year, and they would spend every evening there without fail, talking about nothing and watching the clouds move across the sky. It was a special place for them, filled with memories. It was there, two years ago, that Aimee had opened the box of one of Angelo’s cakes, on her twenty-first birthday, to find the words, inscribed in icing, _‘will you marry me?’_

That time, it had been him crying in their spot, but those were tears of joy. Looking back, that was the first time he’d ever let someone see him do it.

***

“Oh, there you are!”

Aimee jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice, having become so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t sensed his presence. She hadn’t even realised the sun was beginning to set.

Angelo began to make his way to where she was sat to join her, balancing the plate of pastries they had made on his forearm so that he could carry two steaming mugs in his hands. One of his large, fluffy blankets was draped over his shoulder. “I expected that I’d find you here.”

“Feelin’ better?”

He nodded, and placed the food and drink on the ground, before pulling the blanket over the both of them, careful not to let it brush against anything Aimee was working on.

“I am now, yes. Do I _look_ better?”

“Perfect.” She grinned and tapped him softly on the nose. In truth, he was still stunning even when he looked like death. She was sure that even he knew that.

“Fancy taking a snack break?” He asked, taking a pastry and offering it to her. They looked a little more well done than they would have done if Angelo had made them entirely on his own, but given that a couple of them were already missing, it was obvious that they were still edible.

“You bet. I’m actually real hungry.”

“I imagine you must be, you’ve been out here for hours. Do you ever forget to eat when you’re working?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied, through a mouthful of the little fruit-filled tart. “I don’t even realise until after that I’m starvin’, and that I’m achin’ all over. Used to be like that when we were fightin’ as well.”

“Mm. I know what you mean. It’s especially insufferable when you’re in my business and you can’t actually eat the food right in front of you, even after you realise you’ve not had anything all day. But I suppose in a fight, it’s adrenalin, right?”

“Yeah, I reckon so. When me and the Venuses fought that red bastard, he actually broke a few of my ribs, but it took me forever to actually realise he had done. Then when we got back to the nearest town, the pain came on all at once.”

Angelo winced.

“I’m glad we’re out of the mercenary business. Even if you’re still working with the military, at least you aren’t out there getting hurt anymore.” He slipped his arm around her. “What’re you making right now, anyway?”

“Oh, this? The Crystalguard wanted somethin’ effective for keepin’ monsters at bay, and there ain’t any firearm more effective than Guncleaver for that, so it’s sorta based on that.”

“Aah, I see. The halberd is shaped like a lion, right?”

“The symbol of the Crystalguard is a white lion.” She shrugged. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s excellent. You’re really good at adding a little flair to the things you make. Have I ever told you that?”

“I don’t think so…” She blushed and pulled the blanket over her face. “But it means a lot to hear someone like you say that.”

“Well, I mean it. I do think you’re amazing, Aimee. You need to give yourself more credit.”

She always got flustered when he would start hurling compliments at her, but that didn’t change the fact that it was one of the sweetest things he would do for her. Her self-confidence hadn’t hit a low point in years now, not since she’d left the Empire, but he’d still make sure that she always knew he was proud of her. She wondered if he knew just how much those tiny gestures meant.

“Thanks, darlin’. I think I’m gonna crush it when I present this baby to the guys in Gathelatio who requested it.” She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sure you will, sugarcake. I’ll be rooting for you.” He turned and pressed his lips to the top of her head. She smiled.

“I do miss havin’ a big desk to work on when I come back out here though. Sittin’ all hunched over like this ain’t doin’ much good for my neck. I hope that ain’t affected my work too much.”

“I know how you feel.” Angelo sighed. “My kitchen in Gathelatio is heaven compared to this dingy little thing. It’s cute, but it’s just so small now…”

“I guess yer used to that massive space you’ve got back home?”

Their new home had always been a bakery – one owned by a big family that had been around for generations. With so many people running it, it had been built on a much bigger scale than the made-for-two pancake house Angelo and Aimee owned in Florem, so Angelo had far more space to work. He’d even been able to take on more staff and still had room to spare.

“Yes, I suppose…” He was quiet for a moment, and then sat up straight. “I actually think that’s what’s been bothering me…”

“Really? I thought… Not the city this time?”

Angelo had always hated the city of Florem, and for good reason. He’d grown up living in fear of living on the streets and dying, like hundreds of orphaned boys did every year. It was where his biological family had died, and where his first adoptive mother had been murdered. He’d seen, first hand, the slow transition into the hell it had become when DeRosa’s influence had begun to spread. He would never admit it to anyone – not to Aimee, not even to himself – but it was obvious that it made him uncomfortable to go back there. It scared him. Aimee had assumed it was those awful memories that had been causing him so much unrest that afternoon.

“I don’t think so. I don’t usually feel so weird once I’ve been away from the city for a few hours, but this has just stuck with me all throughout today. It can’t be just that.”

“Oh, darlin’…”

“I do love this place… I really do. I have so many fond memories of us here. And I know that for you, it’s so much more. It’s just the house…” He grimaced.”We’ve always made do with its size, but it’s really starting to get to me.”

“…I think I understand what’cha mean actually.”

“You do?” Relief spread across his face.

“Well, yeah. The place is tiny. Y’ve gotta leave the building if ya want space. There’s only one seat, and one bed, and one bathroom. We don’t have a dinin’ table.”

“Right. And it’s not even just the lack of space if you want to be alone… It may sound absurd, but… I kept finding myself noticing how we could never have a third person there with us.”

Aimee felt a tightness in her chest. “I noticed that too, yeah.”

He sighed deeply, and gazed up at the sky. “…We could never start a family in a place like this, could we, Aimee?”

“…No. I don’t think we could…” she paused to think. “Y’know, maybe that’s why you feel this way?”

“I… What do you mean?”

Aimee grinned at him. “I reckon this place is tryin’ to tell ya somethin’. You’ve realised there’s no way our place here would be big enough if we wanted kids, and it’s seriously bothering you. Think about it.”

Angelo’s eyes widened as the realisation hit him, but his face softened quickly afterwards.

“Yes, I… I think you’re right.”

“Y’know, I’ve always thought it was weird that a guy like you was so keen on havin’ a family. You ain’t gonna have much alone time if we do this. You sure yer okay with it?”

“I’ll manage with what I get. But you know, I don’t get much alone time nowadays anyway. Not with my customers, and my staff, and the fact that we live together. And I realised I don’t mind that. It’s a lot less overwhelming when you care about the people you’re with.”

“That’s real cute of ya to say. If yer that confident, why put it off any longer?”

“So you’re saying you feel the same? I mean, we’ve talked about this a lot over the years, so I know we both want the same thing, but does now feel like the right time for you as well?”

“Heck yeah, it does. I think we’re gonna be awesome parents… And I do miss havin’ a big family.” She tried to keep her voice consistent, but could not stop it from breaking slightly as she spoke. “I was the oldest o’ three siblings, and I loved it. I’d kinda like to have that kinda feelin’ again.”

 Angelo gave her a sympathetic smile and then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “Then let’s do it. After all, I’ve always said that we’re a match made in heaven. I have full confidence in us both.”

Aimee slipped her own arms around Angelo’s neck and buried her head into his shoulder, and for a second considered saying nothing more. Part of her wanted to leave this moment as it was – another perfect memory in a perfect place. They may have outgrown the house, but the Gardens themselves would always be special to them. As far as they were concerned, there was no place more precious.

But then, she knew she had the chance to make it better.

“Hey, Angelo,” she began, pulling away slightly so she could look at him in the eyes. “It’s kinda funny how impeccable yer timing has been tonight.”

“Hm? How so?”

“Well… If startin’ a family’s what ya want then I’ve actually got some good news for ya. Because there’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
